My Man Pendleton(59)
Author: Elizabeth Bevarly

And that, he decided, was the scariest thing of all. That he actually cared for Kit McClellan. When that happened exactly, or how, he had no idea. But there it was just the same, submitted for his approval, as Rod Sterling used to say on The Twilight Zone. The comparison was way too appropriate. Because as bizarre as those feelings of affection were, Pendleton did approve of them. Still, there was no reason Kit had to find out about them, was there? God only knew what she would do with the knowledge that he actually liked her.

He expelled a ragged breath of air and knifed his fingers through his hair, remembering, too late, that his hands were still covered with plaster. He glanced down at his clothes to see that they, too, were decorated with clumps of white, dusted with bits of ceiling and wall. In spite of the inclement weather outside, his labor had made him overly warm during the night, and he shed his sweatshirt some time ago. Now his overalls were buckled on one side—the other was broken—over his naked, and likewise plaster-spattered, chest. Kit, too, seemed to be lingering on his upper regions, and a thrill of something hot and urgent ripped through him at the speed of light.

“Where the hell have you been?” he bellowed at the top of his lungs before he could stop himself.

Her eyes widened at the vehemence of his delivery, but she offered no other sign that she found his behavior out of the ordinary. “I…I… I spent the night at Cherrywood.”

Okay, so maybe there was that little stammer he might take as a sign that she found his behavior to be a bit peculiar.

“I…I went over for a visit,” she continued, “and I…I got caught by the storm.” She scrunched up her shoulders and let them drop. “Once it cleared up, I came home,” she pointed out, her tone of voice indicating that even she found the explanation to be tad lame. “It’s like sixty degrees out there now. The roads are pretty much clear.”

He nodded, clenching his jaw tight. “What, and you couldn’t pick up the phone and call me last night?” he demanded further. “Just to let me know you were okay?”

Her lips—those lips that cost him hours of sleep over the last few weeks, so profound was his preoccupation with thoughts of them—parted fractionally. “Frankly, Pendleton, I… I didn’t think you’d notice I was gone.”

She was serious, he realized, amazed. She honestly didn’t think he would notice her absence. He shook head in disbelief. What the hell would give her a stupid idea like that?

Slowly, very slowly, he made his way down the stairs, hoping his leisurely pace might somehow disguise the turmoil tearing him up inside. Little by little, as he moved nearer to Kit, he found that instead of calming down, his feelings only grew more turbulent. She was dressed in another one of those soft, clingy, velvety shirts she seemed to favor, over soft, even clingier jeans. The shirt was a soft lavender that made her eyes appear even bluer than usual. When he finally cleared the last step and stood before her, face to face, he was helpless not to reach out and touch her.

Lifting a hand carefully, so as not to dirty her with the remnants of the decay he’d spent the night repairing, he brushed a finger softly over her cheek. “Oh, I noticed,” he said, his voice gentling. “I definitely noticed.”

Her lips parted a bit more, as if she wanted to say something, but she suddenly snapped them shut and jerked her head away. Pendleton was left touching nothing but air, so he dropped his hand down to his side.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have called you. I just didn’t think…”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you’d be worried about me, that’s all.” Before he had a chance to comment on that, she took a hurried step away from him. “What on earth have you been up to?” she asked as she went, her voice sounding more than a little shaky.

For a moment, he almost refused her the luxury of changing the subject. Then he decided maybe she was right. Maybe they should just ignore, for now anyway, whatever was going on between them. It wasn’t a good idea to go off half-cocked. He really should explore this strange new development a little closer before he did that.

So he jutted a thumb over his shoulder, toward the living room. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get in to work this morning, so I used the time to get some things done around the house. I’ve been at it since about one.”

She nodded, obviously impressed. “It’s only six o’clock now. You did a lot in five hours.” “Not at one P.M,” he corrected her, only now realizing the extent of his work. “One. A.M”.

She gaped at him. “You’ve been up all night working?”

He forced a chuckle, trying to make light of the situation, but the sound came out thin and weak. “Yeah, well, you get me started on a project like this…”

“But all night?” she asked again, clearly incredulous.

This time Pendleton was the one to shrug. “I wasn’t sleepy.”

“Why not?

He waited until she turned to look at him again, then told her, “Because I was worried about you. I was worried a lot.”

She stared back at him in silence for a moment, but instead of commenting on his declaration, she only asked, in a very small voice, “Are you hungry? I could cook us some supper.”

He hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, he suddenly realized. Since collecting his tools and materials from the basement in the wee hours of the morning, he’d been so focused on working on the house—anything to keep from worrying about Kit—that he didn’t take a break. Then again, he’d hadn’t been hungry all night, anyway, thanks to that full feeling of unmitigated terror filling his belly. Now, with that gone, however, he suddenly became ravenous.

“Yeah, I could eat,” he said. “But let’s order a pizza or something, all right? And let me fix a salad. No offense, but I think I’ve had enough country ham and black-eye gravy to last me a lifetime or two.”

She smiled. “That’s red-eye gravy, Pendleton. You big, dumb Yankee.”

He smiled back. “Whatever. I can’t remember the last time I ate a meal without pork fat in it.”

She breezed past him into the living room, tossing over her shoulder, “I want sausage and pepperoni.”

He rolled his eyes. “You can have it on your half. My half is going to be vegetarian.”

“You keep eating like that,” Kit told him, “and you’re never going to fit in down here.”